


An Answer For Another Day

by kuonji



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: First Time, M/M, Post Season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-20
Updated: 2010-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-21 07:24:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuonji/pseuds/kuonji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Starsky was sure of very few things in life anymore. ... And yet, here they were.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Answer For Another Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laura_McEwan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_McEwan/gifts).



> For Laura who made [this request](http://meandthee-wish.livejournal.com/7904.html).
> 
> This story was nominated for an [Ollie Award](http://community.livejournal.com/sh911award_com) in 2010, category "Brownie Award (Best Starsky Story)".
> 
> Alternative Links:  
> <http://meandthee-wish.livejournal.com/11846.html>  
> <http://starskyhutch911.livejournal.com/147146.html>

Dusk had fallen, and the lights had come on. They reflected off of the water, turning Duluth Harbor into a bed of stars. Starsky could see boats in the distance, winking like meteorites. There was a bridge, closer to them -- Hutch had told him the name of it the first day, but he'd forgotten -- and it was lit up like a gate to fairyland, all orange and white.

"Thank you," he said, his voice quiet in deference to the peace of the surroundings.

Hutch, looking young and vibrant, shook his head. The quietly restless man in Bay City who had been reminiscing almost compulsively about his old life -- his life pre-Starsky -- had settled into this new, languid, _happier_ person. "Thank you for coming. These past few days have been... beautiful."

"For me, too," Starsky hurried to say. "Seeing where you grew up. Everything. It was real special." _This is where you came from, partner. This is what made you, you. Is this where you belong, after all?_

Hutch chuckled. "Was my family a shock?"

Starsky thought about it. "No. I'm just surprised I haven't met them before now."

Hutch looked at him from under his eyelashes, like he was sneaking it. "You didn't think we would be that friendly a bunch, did you?"

Starsky tried to laugh around the pierce of the word 'we'. It'd been a long time since Hutch had used that word for anything but the two of them. "You got me there, pal," he joked. "I thought they'd be a bunch of uptight WASPs. And suddenly there's Mr. Stage Actor and Ms. Inner City Art Teacher."

Hutch laughed out loud. "Black sheep," he said, not meaning it. He loved his cousins and his sister, and his uncles and aunts, and his parents and his niece and his two nephews. Starsky could see the affection and the quiet longing in him.

He rubbed his chest with one hand and looked out across the water. It was so large, expanding out towards the horizon, it was hard to believe it wasn't the ocean out there. He kept trying to listen for the familiar pounding of the waves that he could sometimes hear from Hutch's greenhouse.

"Three weeks ago..." Hutch's voice sounded dream-like. "When I first got here, I had no idea what I wanted."

Starsky braced himself. "And now?"

"Now I do." Hutch was so calm, so at peace. Starsky wanted to take off running.

"Star--" Hutch started, but Starsky cut him off, breathless with fear.

"Hutch, don't. Don't say it. Please."

His partner, startled out of his peaceful stupor, stared at him. His mouth opened, but nothing came out for a moment. Then, incredulous, he said, "You knew." They were still so in tune that Hutch didn't even bother making it a question.

Starsky turned away and listened futilely for the ocean. The lighthouse to their right speared its warning beam into the black. "You've had it all over your face since I got here." He couldn't bear to look, but he felt Hutch draw close.

"That's your answer, then?"

"No. I don't know. God, _Hutch_." He put his hands over his mouth, distress pouring out of him. "I don't know if I can be with a man like that."

The outburst hung between them, ugly in its nakedness.

Hutch took a breath that rattled in the dark. "All right. That's fair."

It wasn't. It wasn't fair at all! Starsky was sure of very few things in life anymore. Before Gunther, he had been sure he would live forever. Before he'd sent Hutch home, he had thought Hutch would never leave him. Before he'd gotten off that plane and seen Hutch's face, he had thought he would never leave Hutch.

And yet, here they were.

"I can stay here. If that's what you want. It's good here. I'd forgotten how good. You can... forget this ever happened." _Forget me_ , he didn't say.

Starsky seized Hutch's arms, frantic. "I said _I don't know_. Not _I can't_."

He saw the gleam of hope in Hutch's eyes, a moment before he twisted away with a scowl. "What kind of a half-assed answer is that?" he demanded, angry now, covering his hurt.

"I don't know," Starsky said, lost. "Hutch, I love you," he felt compelled to say.

It was Hutch's turn to stare out across the harbor. He had driven his hands into his pockets and Starsky could see the hip-length wool corners of the letter jacket being weighed down. "That's not enough, is it?" he sighed, finally.

"I don't know," Starsky said again, a broken record. "Maybe it could be. Maybe--"

"Don't play with me." The clipped tone cowed Starsky into silence. They listened to the wind, blowing lakewards at this time of night. It shushed around and between them, where nothing had ever parted them before. Never for long.

Minutes passed before Hutch said, as if in apology, "Maybe what?"

Starsky closed his eyes, seeing the lights still through his eyelids, they were so bright. "Maybe we could try."

"Try?"

His heart raced. "Tonight. Come back with me."

Again, silence. Then, sharp with disbelief: "Are you trying to kill me? It's not enough to rip my heart out. Now you want to give me a, a goodbye fuck?"

Starsky winced. "Don't think of it that way."

"What other way could I possibly think of it?"

Opening his eyes, Starsky looked at his partner. Hutch's face was dark with emotion. His features caught every shadow. Starsky licked his dry lips. The cool Minnesota wind dried them again almost immediately. "Think of it as a seduction," he suggested.

Hutch blinked a few times. "A... seduction, huh?"

"Convince me, Hutch." _I want you to._ "I- I can't promise anything, but..." Losing his courage, he looked out again, searching for the boats. "It wouldn't be just a 'fuck' either way," he finished softly.

A light touch on his shoulder almost made him sob with relief. He leaned into it, and it strengthened in correspondence, until Hutch had both arms around him and Starsky imagined he could feel his partner's heartbeat against his back.

"Okay," Hutch said.

Starsky nodded. "Let's go."

***

The hotel was the sort that had decorated keychains and names for its rooms. Starsky couldn't remember what his was called, but it had lovingly polished wood floors and tasteful silk flowers and ivy all along one wall. The bed was reddish, aged mahogany, carved with intricate patterns. Hutch gravitated to it as Starsky hung up his jacket.

He automatically reached next for his holster and remembered then that of course he hadn't brought it. Feeling abruptly defenseless, Starsky crossed his arms over himself.

Who was he kidding? How could he have thought he could make this choice? He couldn't do this, he was suddenly sure, and if he let things go on until Hutch realized that... whatever friendship they could have salvaged before would be gone.

Slightly panicked, Starsky turned to Hutch to tell him, it was all off. Hutch should go home. This was a mistake.

Hutch was staring at the bed. He was running his hand over the carvings in the headboard, with a tenderness that unexpectedly took Starsky's breath away.

He found himself as mesmerized with Hutch's hands as Hutch evidently was with the wood under them. He tried to imagine those hands brushing against him, exploring the recesses and the dips and swirls on his body. Swallowing his nervousness, Starsky approached his best friend.

"You can touch me like that," he said, softly. Hutch jumped. "That's what we're here for," he reminded the both of them.

"I can't believe it," Hutch said, shaking his head. "This is so... surreal. What if I wake up and you're a dream?"

Starsky couldn't help but smile. Hutch waxed lyrical at the oddest times. And showed his insecurities so, too. "This is my room," he observed. "If it's anyone's dream, I guess it must be mine."

"I guess so." The sudden huskiness of Hutch's voice was unnerving.

Starsky snapped his fingers, trying to dispel the smothering sense of anticipation between them. "Let's get started," he said, and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Hutch stopped him after the first two. Starsky didn't even realize how bad he was shaking until Hutch had laid one gentle hand on top of his. Starsky stilled and looked up. Hutch's face, now in lamplight, seemed to glow. "Let me."

Starsky could only nod.

Instead of pulling Starsky's clothes off, Hutch simply placed his palms on Starsky's chest -- and leaned down. Starsky sucked in a stilted breath when Hutch's lips met his bare skin. Already flooded with adrenaline from his nervousness, his body was hypersensitive to every touch.

The soft explorers traveled along his collar bone to his left shoulder, and Starsky raised his head to let them reach his neck. "Hutch..." he croaked. Not knowing what to do with his hands, he finally settled them gingerly on Hutch's back, barely daring to put weight on it. "Hutch!"

Hands finally coming into play, Hutch undid a single additional button and ran delicate fingers under the cloth. They were cool on Starsky's heated skin, drawing patterns like the flowers and curlicues on the headboard. One callused palm skimmed over a nipple, and Starsky grabbed hold of Hutch's shoulders with a sharp cry.

More buttons came undone. Hutch had to rest one knee on the bed now, so he could reach. Looking down, Starsky watched in disbelief as his partner nosed the loose halves of Starsky's shirt aside and burrowed in. It was -- what did Hutch call it? -- surreal to see Hutch this way.

His breath tickled Starsky's belly and ribs. His hands on Starsky's waist steadied him as he kissed maddeningly meandering trails across Starsky's skin.

"C'mon," Hutch instructed, when Starsky could barely stand another minute. He pulled him towards the bed, and Starsky went, following his partner's lead to sit down at the edge. His shirt was slipped off his shoulders and drawn away to the floor, leaving his upper body bare.

"Oh, Starsk." Hutch stared down at him with wonder in his face.

Starsky stared back at him in confusion. Was he the one making Hutch so happy? He hadn't done anything except sit here.

Smoothly -- amazingly smoothly for a man Starsky knew had suffered his own injuries in the line of duty -- Hutch went to his knees. His hands touched Starsky's jeans, undoing that final button.

The grating sound of the zipper pulling down woke Starsky from his dream-like state of mind. "W-Wait," he said, suddenly gripped by a sense of horror.

"Starsky?"

He looked down at Hutch, troubled. He stroked Hutch's hair and traced the planes of his face. Hutch always looked so innocent. So _good_.

Starsky knew better, of course. His friend had faults, just like everyone else, and he hadn't been a street cop for all these years without being ground away and stained at the edges some.

But Starsky just couldn't let Hutch continue. Not down on his knees like this. Not his Hutch. All he'd seen of this act was whores and tweakers and -- oh god, John Blaine, dead before his time. He was filled with the sudden idea that if he let his partner touch him this way, he would be turning Hutch into one of those ill-fated people.

"What's the matter?" Hutch said, responding to Starsky's distress. He rose up and, sitting next to Starsky, embraced him fully. Soft, fragrant wool surrounded his abruptly chilled flesh. Starsky let his head drop onto Hutch's shoulder. "You okay?"

Feeling better with his partner next to him, Starsky muttered the first excuse he could think of: "You've got a lot of clothes on. Let's even us up before we go there, huh?"

"You're right. I'm sorry." Hutch drew back, guilt averting his gaze. Starsky almost wished that he hadn't lied. He was no blushing flower, to be intimidated by being naked before a lover. But he knew Hutch wouldn't be able to accept the truth of what really bothered Starsky.

The thought galvanized him into action. He owed Hutch something better than a passive warm body.

Hutch had already pulled off his jacket with efficient speed. When he put his hands to the hem of his sweater, however, Starsky grabbed them. He waited until Hutch met his eyes before he echoed what Hutch had told him: "Let me."

Red flushed Hutch's cheeks, and Starsky felt his hands tighten convulsively before letting go. "O-Okay," he stammered, and his gaze skittered away. Starsky couldn't believe this was the man supposed to seduce him.

Feeling slightly self-conscious, he first put his hands under Hutch's sweater. He spread his fingers across the new territory, curious.

Unlike with a woman, there was no swell of breasts to aim towards, but, following habit, he smoothed his way up in the familiar dance. He found that touching Hutch's well-defined pecs and dragging his fingers through the sparse hair there was almost as good.

Lower down, he could feel the hardness of trained muscles. They were shapely, too, in a masculine way, and the slide of skin over skin seemed to be universally satisfying. Lower still, Hutch's soft, vulnerable belly jerked inward with a gasp of surprise and pleasure when Starsky caressed the patch just above the belt.

Remembering how it had felt for him, Starsky rolled his palms over his partner's nipples. Hutch groaned aloud and threw his head back. Starsky saw him bite his lip immediately after, and he looked down and realized Hutch had clenched his hands into his own thighs. The tips of his fingers had gone bloodless and white.

"God, Hutch," he exclaimed. "You don't have to hold back." Hutch opened glazed eyes that sharpened with embarrassment. He shook himself and relaxed his hands forcefully. "Hey," Starsky soothed, amazed at the power he had at this moment. "C'mon." He tugged Hutch's sweater upwards, and Hutch meekly lifted his arms, allowing Starsky to pull it off.

"I thought you'd done this before," Starsky said, tilting his voice just enough to make it a question.

Hutch cleared his throat, but his voice was still scratchy when he replied, "Not when it mattered this much."

Starsky had to swallow hard then. "Lie down," he ordered, his voice gruff to hide his emotion.

Hutch pulled him along, and again, Starsky followed where his partner led him. He found himself on top of Hutch, their bare chests pressed together. He felt like every micro-shift between them was a new caress. It was frightening in a way, but not... bad.

He adjusted his breathing to inhale when Hutch exhaled, so that they stayed in as close contact as possible. He buried his nose in Hutch's neck, as he had dozens of times before. Hutch was warm but not yet sweaty. He lay still, apparently waiting for Starsky to make the first move.

Emboldened by his partner's familiar scent, Starsky laid a soft kiss on Hutch's neck. When that felt okay, he allowed his lips to wander upward.

"Starsky..."

He got up on his elbows so he could reach the underside of Hutch's chin. Then his cheekbones. Then his forehead. Then his nose. Looking deep into Hutch's pale blue eyes, he finally lowered his head and touched Hutch's lips with his own.

 _Good_ , was his first thought, tinged with surprise. Hutch's moustache tickled his upper lip, but the outright strangeness of that was soon overwhelmed by the confusingly mixed sensations of the familiar with the alien. Hutch's lips were soft, not hard like he'd imagined another man's to be. They felt no wider or stronger than a woman's. They tasted like Hutch.

When Starsky gathered the courage to open his mouth, Hutch followed, and it was still good. Better.

Starsky realized that he could get lost in this feeling. _Maybe this will work_ , he thought, his hope soaring. His feelings translated to his partner as they always did, and Hutch moaned into his kisses with new abandon. Growing ever more restless, he ran his hands down Starsky's back and arms, everywhere he could reach.

Gradually, Starsky became aware of something against him that no woman ever had. A bit of his nervousness made a reappearance, and he covered it with a quip: "Is that for me?" and pushed tentatively down with his hips.

Hutch gasped, and his hands on Starsky's biceps tightened. "Yeah. All for you, buddy."

With more confidence than he felt, Starsky smiled and said, "Then I guess I'd better go collect the prize." He enjoyed how Hutch's eyes widened.

Hutch grabbed his arm when he lifted up, stopping him. "Starsky." He touched Starsky's face. "I..." His mouth worked soundlessly, and he blinked hard, looking frustrated.

"I know, Blintz." Starsky kissed Hutch's hand, marveling at how natural it felt. He disengaged gently and crawled backwards until he had his target firmly in his sights.

Being faced with the bulge in Hutch's jeans was something else altogether. But Starsky hadn't come this far just to fall down. Decisively, he worked Hutch's pants open and peeled them back. He heard Hutch gasp as he brushed his tented briefs on the way.

All the worries that he'd had for Hutch didn't apply to him. Maybe it was unfair, but he thought himself tough in a way that his partner was not. Starsky cupped the bulge firmly.

It was warm and fit well in his hand, reminding Starsky of some small baby animal. He grinned, thinking of the women who cooed over him, making him so impatient with their too-soft strokes and inexplicable cuddling.

He followed an impulse to rub his left cheek against it. Hutch made a sudden sound, and Starsky did it again on the other side, liking that strangled groan.

Bolstered by this, Starsky pulled the edge of Hutch's briefs down and finally had his first face to face with another man's erect cock.

It was long. Not too thick. Redder than Starsky's own got. He thought about his blond partner's coloring and wasn't surprised. He stroked it once and Hutch groaned again, his hips jumping. Harder efforts caused Hutch to clutch the sheets and pant.

Fascinated, Starsky found himself wanting to see more. After only a moment of hesitation, he took a firm hold and leaned forward to lick the heated skin.

Nothing special, was his first impression.

Hutch's reaction was much more pronounced. " _Starsky_!" He shot to his elbows and stared down at Starsky with wildness about his eyes. "Y- You don't have to d- do that," he stammered.

Starsky knew that look. That voice. He knew Hutch was dying for it but was trying to be considerate.

"I got it," he assured, finding himself excited by his knowledge. "Just lie back and enjoy." Hutch said nothing but watched him with hungry eyes.

Starsky wondered if this was what it was always like with a man -- knowing exactly how the other felt. Maybe it was just what it was like with Hutch. It was an extension of their usual mental shorthand, almost like he was touching himself, feeding back on the stimulus. Starsky shivered and shifted, realizing that he was getting hard.

 _I'm hard for my partner_ , he thought, amazed. He caught Hutch's eye and deliberately pulled out his best bedroom voice to promise, "You're going to see stars before I'm through, babe." Hutch groaned and fell back.

Suiting deed to word, he returned to his ministrations. He kissed his way from base to tip, then down again, to the accompaniment of roughening breathing from above. He teased the slit with his thumb, then followed with his tongue. He frowned at the bitter taste, but the amazing sound Hutch choked off more than made up for it, so that he repeated it, until Hutch was chanting his name.

Then, knowing how women often forgot how pleasurable it felt, he sucked in the heavy sack underneath and laved it with his tongue. Hutch almost came off the bed.

Inspired to new levels, Starsky didn't even think twice before taking Hutch in as far as he could and sucking hard.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god..."

Knowing what he liked himself, Starsky continued sucking as he stroked Hutch firmly with a slight twist. He massaged his balls with his other hand. When his jaw ached, he stopped to tease Hutch with more kisses and feather-light touches to his belly and thighs.

"I'm gonna-- I can't--" Frantic hands pushed Starsky away, and he sat back as Hutch took himself in hand. Hutch moaned, low and needy, and jacked himself with quick, fierce motions until he erupted, shuddering in the rhythm that every man knew.

Starsky watched, fascinated and yet... a little jealous, as the white drops coated Hutch's hand and stomach. Hutch's head was thrown back against the pillow, his whole body taut and shining with sweat. This was the man who loved him. Starsky's chest swelled.

"Hutch," he said, reaching out, he didn't care where. His hand landed on Hutch's chest, and he stroked up to his partner's neck. "Hutch, you're _beautiful_ ," he told him.

Still hazy from his climax, Hutch seemed to be struck dumb by Starsky's declaration. His eyes glittered alarmingly, so that Starsky had to surge forward and kiss the suddenly slack mouth.

Hutch reciprocated with earnest, open-mouthed kisses. He stroked Starsky's back, his hands wandering towards but never crossing the line of Starsky's loosened waistband.

"You can," Starsky reminded him. "What do you want, babe? Anything you want," he exhorted breathlessly, meaning it. He wanted to give Hutch the world.

Hutch's face was soft and filled with want. "Starsky. Oh... Starsky." Hutch brought both hands up to cup Starsky's face. His eyes were bright. "Make love to me?"

The question was soft, sweet. Starsky's heart lurched.

"It'll feel good," Hutch insisted, perhaps sensing Starsky's hesitation. "Hot and tight, just like a woman, but better." Starsky shook his head even as he felt his cock respond to Hutch's need-graveled voice. The last thing he wanted was to treat Hutch like a woman.

"It'll feel good for me, too. There's nothing else like it, I swear." Hutch had understood and was responding by taking a different tack. His face was focused, determined. "This isn't just hearts and flowers for me. I _want_ you. I want you touching me inside. I want to feel you becoming part of me. I've dreamed about this. Starsky, _please_."

Starsky couldn't stand to make Hutch beg. "Show me how?" he asked, his throat so tight, it came out in a hoarse whisper.

Despite what he'd been saying just a moment ago, Hutch seemed surprised. No. Disbelieving.

"Aw, Hutch." Did he expect so little? One measly night, and he never even thought he'd get everything. Starsky kissed his lover again, because that was one thing he was sure about: He loved Hutch with all his heart.

This time, Hutch pulled at Starsky's pants, and drew them down. He reached between them.

Starsky hissed at the first touch of Hutch's hand. Doubt surged up again even as his pleasure magnified. He buried his face in Hutch's neck to smother his cries.

"Starsky." Hutch stroked his back soothingly. "Don't hold back," he said, echoing Starsky's words from earlier. "Let me take care of you."

He shook his head, still irrationally terrified by the image of his partner, dead and forgotten. "Hutch."

"Sh, shhh." Hutch shifted under him, and Starsky was rolled until he lay looking up at Hutch's gentle face. "It's okay."

Starsky stroked Hutch's hair, soft and fine and gone long and golden. "I'm scared," he admitted.

"I know. Me, too."

Starsky shook his head. He knew it wasn't the same.

Hutch kissed him on the cheek. He moved down and freed Starsky's legs from his pants, then removed his own. When he returned, he had a small bottle of the hotel's lotion. He crawled up to kiss Starsky deeply. "Starsky, we're still us. Nothing will change." His blue eyes were serious.

Starsky gaped.

"You won't change me, nor me you. Except for the better. I promise."

Having shattered Starsky's mind with his words, Hutch proceeded to torture Starsky's body with his tongue. He covered every square inch, paying homage. Starsky had never felt anything like it before.

Starsky could do nothing but moan his partner's name and touch every bit of Hutch he could reach. By the time Hutch put a moist, slick hand on him, he was already going slowly out of his mind.

And then Hutch was straddling him, and his strong, proud partner was lowering himself down. Starsky could only stare, helpless, as the most amazing pleasure engulfed him. Crying out, he thrust upward, and Hutch gasped and moaned. In the single lamp's light, Starsky could see the soft sparkle of sweat standing out on Hutch's skin.

"God, Hutch."

Against the dark paneled ceiling and walls, against the wood of the bed, amidst the coffee-colored sheets and coverlet, Hutch's pale skin and golden hair shone like something heavenly. He gave a full-throated moan, and he closed his eyes with a look of pure bliss.

When Hutch started to rock in place, Starsky's breath caught in one long moan.

Hutch looked powerful, mythic, in control. Hutch was taking what he needed, Starsky realized. He was using Starsky for his own pleasure. He knew exactly what he wanted and -- at this moment, at least -- there was no doubt in his mind that Starsky was going to give it to him.

The last shreds of doubt fell away from Starsky's mind. Calling out Hutch's name, he surged up, matching his rhythm.

"Hutch!" He reached out, and Hutch came to him. Their mouths fitted together, and Starsky knew -- he _knew_ \-- that he could do this, that he _wanted_ to do this, that if he were somehow prevented from being with his partner again in this way, it would be like ripping his soul in half. "Hutch!" he sobbed, and Hutch gave him everything he needed.

A minute later, the world exploded from the inside.

***

"Hutch," Starsky said, much later. He was ensconced in blankets and wrapped up in his partner's arms. He'd never felt more comfortable and safe.

"Hm?"

"That guy at the bank this morning." It'd clicked into place when Hutch was cleaning them up, that soft look in his eyes. "Scotts. Kevin." He remembered how the tall brunet had lit up when Hutch walked in, how shy he'd been -- all the little clues his detective's mind should have jumped on earlier, if he hadn't been distracted. "Was he...?"

"Yeah. When we were kids." There was no surprise in Hutch's tone. No embarrassment.

"Hutch, he's married." Hutch stroked Starsky's arms, knowing, of course, that Starsky wasn't accusing him of anything, just trying to figure it out.

"So was I." Hutch sighed, sounding wistful. "He and Susan have been together for eight years."

Starsky frowned, a core of protective ferocity flaring strong. " _We've_ been together longer than that," he pointed out. He hugged Hutch's arms to him. He wanted so much to show Hutch that the life he had ( _they_ had) was just as good as any of these stupid picket-fencers here in Duluth. "Hutch, I--"

Hutch's breath sifted through his hair, and he kissed the back of Starsky's head. "Tell me tomorrow. When you've had a little time to think."

"But--"

"Starsky, don't say anything. Please. I couldn't stand it if..." He trailed off and his arms tightened around Starsky's chest, as if trying to lock him in.

"Okay." Starsky pried at Hutch's right hand until Hutch let him pick it up. He kissed it, then held it against his face. "I won't change my mind, though. You'll see."

Starsky was sure of very few things in life anymore. But one thing he could always count on was, every morning he would wake up his Hutch with a kiss and the word, _Yes_. And _yes_ again when Hutch looked unsure, and _yes_ yet again when Hutch finally smiled with real hope. And another _yes_ when Hutch kissed him back, full of joy.

That morning, and the morning after, and every morning after that for the rest of their lives.

 

END.

**Author's Note:**

> [Original request here.](http://community.livejournal.com/meandthee_wish/7904.html)
> 
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> 
> The sum total of my understanding of what Duluth Harbor looks like comes from [these photos](http://www.tonyrogersphotos.com/photosales.htm).  My thanks to the photographer.
> 
> * * *
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:  
>      [I Dreamed I Was...](http://community.livejournal.com/starskyhutch911/127815.html) (Starsky & Hutch), by kuonji   
>      [Ollie](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/21572.html) (Starsky & Hutch), by kuonji   
>      [Universe Ambassador](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/12686.html) (Stargate SG-1/Firefly), by kuonji   
>      [End Of The Line](http://www.squidge.org/flamingo/starskyhutchslash/classic/Rosemary/endoftheline.htm) (Starsky & Hutch), by Rosemary     
>      [Crystal Blue Persuasion](http://starskyhutcharchive.com/starskyhutchslash/classic/Flamingo/crystal1.htm) (Starsky & Hutch), by Flamingo  
>      [Blue](http://morganlogan.com/blue.html) (Starsky & Hutch), by Morgan Logan


End file.
